


misunderstandings

by respect_the_boomerang_arrow



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse of italics, Assumed Family, Found Family, How Do I Tag, Hypixel - Freeform, Other, Technoblade-centric, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, based on a lot of tumblr posts, bedwars, but not really, no beta we die like wilbur, will update as I write, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respect_the_boomerang_arrow/pseuds/respect_the_boomerang_arrow
Summary: It started as a joke.No, that's not true. It started as most things in this world did - with a long story and a lot of chaos.The joke came far later.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Dave | Technoblade's Chat, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 175





	1. the start, perhaps.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh, so this started bc I was on Tumblr and I saw one of those memes about Techno and Wilbur not being twins but they were born on the same day and look alike and now I'm too invested. I will post as I finish each chapter ig lol

There are many things to take into account when one considers the Nether.

For one, it's hardly the most pleasant place to find, ahm, _romance_. The natives to the realm mainly consisted of large, fire-breathing ghasts and aggressive, bi-pedal pigs. Almost everything there literally only wants to end any player within sight. However, it is not the place of an onlooker, I suppose, to kink-shame the overly ambitious and, ahm, _eager_ players who somehow will find a way to _romance_ whatever catches their fancy.

I will spare us all the detail about how one such player might go about their _temporary wooing_ of a chosen mob and instead skip to the usual result of one such partnership - a child.

Or, well, a " _hybrid_ ".

You see, hybrids are a specific classification of being and, mainly due to a large majority of players wishing to not dwell on the mechanics of the birth and/or _creation_ of such child, are typically not classified into more detail than that. A child born of a zombie and a human is a hybrid; a child born of a strider and a human is a hybrid; even, End forbid the fate of the daring soul who seeks such a thing to occur, a child born of a _ghast_ and a human is a hybrid.

Due to this small fact, there are many _misunderstandings_ that can happen.

This brings us to a young hybrid, hardly more than 6 years of age, and the chaos that ensued because of misunderstandings throughout his life.

* * *

_Walk. Scavenge for something edible. Hide._

The young hybrid thrived on routine. Every time he woke, he repeated his steps. A single mistake could lead to injury, for the world was not kind to those who did not fit.

Suddenly, there was a loud screech: " _LATE!_ "

He did not know what a "late" was, but he knew what noise was. Noise meant "danger" and "danger" meant "harm". Looking around for somewhere to hide, he spotted a small space under a large overhang and hid.

The voice was joined by a few more, some louder than others.

" _Hide?_ " " _Why hide?_ " " _Technohide?_ "

He grunted in confusion. 

" _Talk!_ " " _Answer!_ " " _Talk!_ " " _Talk!_ " " _Talk!_ " They told him.

Unfortunately, he was a hybrid, an outcast to the players with swords who only saw a young piglin and an outcast to the greedy piglins who only saw something that was "not like them" and therefore a "threat", so he knew not any language from either.

Somehow, though, the scared hybrid eventually found a middle ground, an understanding with the voices that allowed a communication that grew into a language.

The voices became something to trust, to love, to rely on for comfort and assistance. They taught him to talk in a language they called "the _Universal_ ", a language that, despite the name, was decidedly _not_ universal but instead spoken mostly by a passive mob called "villagers" and a hostile mob called "endermen". They also taught him a language they called "english", one they assured him most players spoke fluently, and a language called "french", something they only did to mock him for in a gentle tone.

They talked to him about colors ( _red, grey, black, white, blue, pink, gold and so many **more**_ ), the blocks around him ( _basalt, netherack, gold ore, soul sand, soul dirt, lava_ ), and the beings he hid from ( _ghast, withered skeleton, piglin, zombified piglin_ ).

 _So many different names for everything. Does everything have a name?_ He wondered.

" _Yes,_ " they told him.

_Do I have a name?_

" _Yes._ " " _YES!_ " " _Technoblade!_ " " _TECHNOBLADE!_ " They eagerly yelled back.

 _Do_ you _have a name?_

" _The Voices from Beyond._ " " _The Voiceless_." " _The Unending._ " " _The Ever-Seeing._ " " _Chat._ " " _CHAT._ " " _CHAT!_ "


	2. discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day? yeah, I'm hyper fixating

When he was around 8 years old (or so Chat told him), he found his first weapon.

Well, _found_ is a rather strong word. He had been hiding from a fight happening too close to his hiding place for his comfort when he saw the unknown player fall to the rough netherack floor. The piglin, apparently satisfied, patted the injured player down, took all golden items, and walked away.

" _Loot him!_ " " _Loot!_ " " _Go!_ " " _Go!_ "

Technoblade cautiously walked over to the dying player, standing above him. On some level, he knew what death was - he'd woken from sleep by enough screams in his life to be a total stranger. He had never _seen_ it before, though, the bloodied gasps of a man trying so desperately to cling to life despite the rapidly reddening ground beneath him. The hybrid tilted his head and shuffled closer.

"B-Back! Stay back! I'm armed!" The player wildly swung something long and shimmering, making Technoblade jump back a few steps.

The effort expended, however, was too much. With a choked grunt, the player shuddered and shifted out of existence.

 _Where did he go?_ Technoblade asked Chat.

" _Dead!_ " " _Respawn!_ " " _Dead!_ "

The young hybrid frowned at the unfamiliar term. _Respawn? What's that?_

" _Dead!_ " " _Come back to life!_ " " _Respawn!_ " 

_When you die, you... Come back?_

Chat was quiet for a moment. " _Sometimes._ " " _No mob respawn._ " " _Only players._ " " _Only hybrids._ "

Unfortunately, Technoblade had never heard the term "hybrid" and was then sentenced to a long, staggered, uncomfortable talk about spawning and creation before Chat decided to change the subject.

" _Loot!_ " " _Check loot before it despawns!_ " 

He shuffled over to the hovering items on the ground, asking about this item and that. It wasn't anything new, really, just stuff he had already seen in chests, but the item he had been threatened with caught his attention again.

It was long, shimmering purple, and sharp, made from a hard material he had never seen before. 

" _Metal,_ " Chat whispered to him. " _Netherite sword._ " " _Take it!_ " " _Take it!_ " " _Yours!_ "

 _What would I even do with this?_ He wondered.

" _Defend!_ " The Chat yelled, joyous in a way he had never heard before. " _Protect!_ " " _Attack!_ " " _Blood for the Blood God!_ " " ** _BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!_** "

* * *

Following the instructions from his Chat, Technoblade learned the art of swordplay. He trained his body and mind, learning to move fluid and fast until he was able to defend himself well.

The young hybrid took to violence like he needed it to breathe. He attacked the aggressive mobs and even, on occasion, a player or two that attacked him first. He learned stealth, victory, and even, on occasion, how to heal using the odd, fragile "glass bottles" that contained miraculous cures and poisons.

It was during one such healing session that an 11 year old Technoblade came across an unknown player building an odd frame. It was tall, made from some sort of rigid, black stone. The player rested a moment, fiddling with an odd grey rectangle in their hand, before pulling out a flint and steel. The hybrid watched as the player struck the center of the frame.

Technoblade scrambled back as there was a loud " _WHOOSH_ ", a semi-transparent purple film appearing within the tall rectangle. The player entered the film and, to his horror, disappeared.

The small hybrid had never seen a portal before, much less one in use, and proceeded to lose his shit.

_HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD! WHERE'S HIS STUFF? WHERE DID HE GO?!_

" _It's okay,_ " Chat tried to soothe him. " _Technocalm!_ " " _Just a portal._ " " _Obsidian._ " " _Smiles in the chat!_ " " _Smile, smile, smile, smile_!"

"Pohrrrr-tahl?" He sounded it out in his rarely used, scratchy voice.

" _Portal!_ " " _Portal!_ " " _Go through it!_ " They urged him.

 _Where does it go?_ Technoblade asked timidly.

" _Overland!_ " " _Go on!_ " " _Trust!_ " " _Trust!_ "

And with that, the young hybrid took a deep breath, clutched his small, stolen leather pouch filled with the only things he owned, and stepped into the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaoo i didn't mean for chat to give techno the talk, I can't believe that slipped into the story. cliff hanger pog?
> 
> comments and kudos give inspiration, so feel free to leave me your opinion on this!


	3. as a rule, fake it until you get caught

As a rule of nature, a lot of the fiercest predators are small. When they fight, they fight to the death, unleasing their rage onto the world because they believe they should be bigger than they really are.

Due to this, many people did not find the small, pink hybrid to be out of place in the Hypixel Main Lobby once he eventually arrived there. In fact, it was not unusual in the slightest bit for hybrid runts to turn to fighting, as there wasn't many options when it came to income if one was small and filled with a rage disproportionate to their size.

The thing about hybrids, however, is that it was hard to determine the age of one by glance. Players were easy, of course, with greying hair and baby fat alluding to their true ages. Hybrids? Not as such, their mixed DNA altering their genetic makeup so much that the only way to know was to ask the hybrid themself.

Unfortunately, this can cause some... _miscommunications_ to occur if one is young and has only conversed with the passively chaotic voices in their head their entire life.

* * *

"Hi! Have you been here before?" The girl in front of him was very bubbly, a small book in front of her.

Technoblade had no idea what he was doing. The portal lead to a large room with a door labled " _Hypixel Lobby_ " next to a desk where a brightly colored girl sat.

Technoblade may have been young, but Chat had raised him with a solid belief that if you don't know what you're doing, keep doing it until someone says you're doing it wrong. Then you correct them and make them question their entire belief systems.

"Uh, no, I have not," he answered confidently. _Guess Chat hadn't been lying about english being common._

"Okay, I'll need to ask you a few questions before I can let you through. First, what is your name?"

"Technoblade."

"Alright, now how long have you been at this?"

He frowned. "Uh, what?"

"Like, how many years?"

This simple question meant something different to each person in the conversation. To the girl filling out the forms to allow the small hybrid into the lobby, the question was to be interpreted as " _How long have you been playing in PvP style games?_ " To Technoblade, the odd player with the notebook was asking how many years old he was.

As hybrid ages cannot be verified, _especially_ by just looking at someone, the answer "11 years" was accepted without question, thus giving the _very_ young, not-a-runt Technoblade access to a multitude of games allowed only to experienced members and a keycard that declared him an adult.

Chat, however, knew _exactly_ what was going on and, instead of choosing to correct the situation, thought it was absolutely _hilarious_. Eager to see what would happen next, they urged Technoblade to go through the door, thus leading him to a life of victories, dedication, and even more misunderstandings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chat? having a personality? it's (apparently) more likely than you'd think.
> 
> also, keep in mind that I have never played hypixel and the only real explanations I get is from youtube "let's play" videos and Technoblade himself so everything is going to be wildly incorrect from here on out y'all


	4. when you hyper-fixate on rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the response I have gotten to this is absolutely insane, guys! I'm so glad y'all like this story lol
> 
> anyway, happy 2021! here's to hoping things can only go up. after all, 2020 is over, so everything else will be better now, right? right?? *side-eyes the re-readers from 2022*

If there is one thing that has never changed throughout time, it is the lengths people will go to seek entertainment.

Some players choose a small, peaceful life, content with farming and selling. They spend their days in the sun, hoe in hand, and their few spare moments checking on any minions they have. This is who they are, and this is all they will be.

Other players explore caverns and dungeons, gaining levels of experience and libraries of knowledge on the ways and wiles of realms. They spend their lives searching for something, not knowing what goal they seek to achieve but secure in the knowledge that everything they've accomplished is not enough, always reaching for the next achievement. This is what they do, and this is all they will ever do.

Then there are the vindicative sort, those who were spat on by the world and sell their entire beings to seek satisfaction and emancipation from their past selves. They throw themselves into tournament after tournament, ghosting the Bedwars and Skywars realms every moment they have, vowing unknowingly to destory everyone and everything, including themselves. This is what they become, hollowed and rage-fuled, and this is how they meet their defeats.

Every player in the Hypixel realms can be sorted into one of those categories, whether they know it or not, and that's how it had always been.

Well, except one particularly chaotic preteen hybrid with an equally chaotic mental crowd cheering and directing from event to event at random like a boat on a sea of ice. They knew not of the unspoken categories and cared only for a 100% success rate on everything they did.

* * *

_This is fine. Everything is fine._

Things were, in fact, not fine.

Technoblade was tired and had no idea what was going on. He wanted a bed. He wanted sleep. He saw the word " _Bed_ " in the main lobby and immediately clicked on the game, not even bothering to read the rest of the word.

_Mistake. Instant mistake. Must kill! Must sleep!_

The game seemed complicated at first, so he had turned to Chat for help.

_Hey guys? Does anyone have any idea what is going on?_

" _Ahahah NOOB!_ " " _Kill kill kill kill!_ " " _Blood for the blood god!_ " " _Protect bed!_ "

He paused. _What was that last one?_

" _Protect bed!_ " " _Stay alive!_ " " _Don't get knocked off!_ " " ** _BLOOD!_** "

 _Aha, a game of survival!_ If there was one thing the young hybrid knew, it was how to keep living, even- _especially_ when the odds were against you.

Or so he had thought.

You see, it started because Technoblade logged onto a game with no idea how to log out. He wanted to sleep, but Technoblade had a secret weapon that swung as wildly between being aimed at him and being aimed at a task he needed done as an Overworld compass did in the Nether.

Technoblade had ADHD. 

When that poor, unsuspecting player knocked the tiny hybrid off of a ledge, it awoke something in him. Blood rushed through his ears and his mind cleared, dedicated on only one task: complete and utter annihilation of his enemies. In the back of his mind, Chat chanted " _BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ " as usual, but for the first time, Technoblade understood.

There was no Blood God he had to constantly appease. Chat wasn't some ancient deity who graced him with their attention.

The Blood God was a _goal_. It was a _state of mind_. It was something he already was, something he had to become, something he would never achieve but yet always had coded in his blood. It was a level of-

Technoblade misjudged the edge and fell off the bridge he had been building.

" _TECHNOFAIL!_ " " _AHAHAHAHA!_ " " _LOSER!_ " " _CRINGE!_ "

_Thanks, guys. Truly, so helpful. Honestly._

It was at that moment that he declared war upon himself and vowed to be the _Number One Bedwars Champion_ , no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you actually kidding me as soon as I wrote this chapter's beginning note (literally, mere seconds!), techno tweeted "it'll be a tough act to follow for sure, but with enough determination I believe that 2021 can find a way to be worse than 2020" I swear this man-

**Author's Note:**

> this work is inspired by the characters created and portrayed by the members of mcyt. if any of the irl people in this would like me to remove this/their character for any reason, I will, no hesitation. no intention of disrespect and/or offense was meant by this written, fictional work and I gain no profit in anything but joy from kudos and comments.
> 
> this is in no way going to be a shipping fic. please don't insist on shipping the characters as portrayed in this work. a great number of the irl people don't feel comfortable with it and I really just want to make a fic that doesn't go against their wishes.
> 
> if y'all have any suggestions for this, feel free to leave it in the comments! there is no current update schedule and constructive criticism is always welcome! <3


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